The Italian
by Bridgette Irish
Summary: When Hermione comes out to the Weasley clan, she begins dating a mysterious woman who sets Fleur on edge in the midst of a great personal tragedy. The women struggle with balancing Fleur's pain and suspicions and Hermione's happiness and insecurities. Currently Rated T, likely to change to M later in the story.
1. Chapter 1

The Italian

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I receive no monetary compensation for this work. Susanna Fiore is my creation.

Chapter 1

The Burrow kitchen burst into chaos upon Fleur and Bill's announcement.

"Fleur, dear, that's wonderful news! I'll get started knitting booties straight away. Merlin knows you'll need them!" Mrs. Weasley was the first to chip in.

Mr. Weasley smacked Bill on the back and laughed heartily. "Well done, son. You'll both make cracking parents!"

Ginny stood and gave Fleur a delicate hug. Upon conclusion of the war, the two had somewhat thawed to each other and were in the beginnings of what may almost be called sisterhood. "When are you due, Phlem?" she asked affectionately.

Fleur sighed and smiled, squeezing Ginny's hands and looking past her to her husband, light sparkling in her eyes. "Fall. September, most likely. We think it may be close to 'Ermione's birthday." Fleur turned her dazzling smile upon her sister-in-law.

Hermione shook off her melancholy momentarily and stood herself, to join Ginny at Fleur's side. She bestowed a friendly kiss on Fleur's perfect cheek, gave her arm a squeeze and said "Congratulations, darling. You are positively glowing." She then left the room with a surreptitious glance at Ron and a hurried excuse about the loo.

Ron stood, cleared his throat and pointed in the direction Hermione had just escaped. "I had better…" The table nodded collectively and let him go. Before he was out of sight, though, he turned to Bill and Fleur. "I'm so happy for you both. I can't wait to meet the little blighter," and with a wink he was gone.

Fleur looked stricken. "Is she upset? Did I say somezing wrong?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing you did, Phlem. She and Ron have been having a rough go of it. It may only be she wishes she was where you are and doesn't want to resent you for it. You know Hermione. She meant what she said. She's terribly happy for you, only conflicted."

Fleur nodded.

"So, sis," George chimed in, breaking the tension. "Will you let me name Baby Weasley."

Fleur rolled her eyes and bantered back. "You may not. If you had your way my bebe would be named for some burly Quidditch player, non?"

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Hermione made it up to Ginny's room, where she had spent so many childhood nights, before Ron caught up with her.

"Oi, Hermione, what's the big idea, just running off like that? Fleur thinks you're angry with her."

Hermione sniffed and looked out the window into the starry night. "I'm sorry, Ron. I just didn't want to be a buzzkill. We can't tell them now. Not after this. It would ruin the entire night."

Ron crossed the room and stood next to her, not touching her, but softened his voice. "Maybe you're right, love, but we can't put it off much longer. Ginny's already figured it out and as perceptive as Fleur is, she won't be far behind. They know you far too well. I can hide it from Mum and Dad well enough, but Harry and George are starting to wonder as well."

Hermione turned to Ron, hope shining in her eyes alongside her unshed tears. "Can't we try again, Ron? Surely we can work it out. I'll try harder, I'll go to counseling, maybe there's a potion I can take. I refuse to believe this is the end of us."

Now, Ron did reach for her, holding her by both shoulders. "We have tried, love, for far longer than we probably should have. It's nothing to do with effort, Hermione. We've both tried, Merlin knows. But I am not what you want, and we can't keep pretending that will ever change."

Hermione's tears spilled over. "Ron, I've never failed at anything."

Ron pulled her into a hug and spoke into the wisps of her hair brushing his face. "This isn't failure, Hermione. It's just accepting the truth. Moving on will give us both the chance to be happy."

Hermione nodded, squared her shoulders and made up her mind.

"Come on, Ronald. Am I a Gryffindor or not. It's now or never."

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They arrived back in the Burrow kitchen to Ginny and George bandying baby names back and forth.

"Bernard" suggested George and Fleur wrinkled her nose

"Lilac" countered Ginny, "y'know, like a play on Fleur?"

Fleur furrowed her brow.

"Oscar"

"Gertrude"

"Killian"

"Oresteia"

"I like Victor." The voice came from the doorway and all heads turned to Hermione, Ron's supportive hand firmly on her shoulder.

Fleur stood and crossed to Hermione. "Are you all right, mon amie?"

Hermione smiled and nodded through fresh tears. "Oui, Fleur, I'm fine." She turned her attention to the room at large. "I do have something I need to tell you all, however," she hedged. "I didn't think it appropriate after Fleur and Bill's good news, but Ron convinced me it was important enough."

She took a deep breath and felt Ron's strong hand squeeze her shoulder. "Ronald and I are splitting up."

The room gasped collectively, save for Ginny and Harry.

"We'd rather not make a fuss about it. We'll remain friends." She squeezed the hand at her shoulder. "That will never change. I have just recently admitted to him that we are, in the end… rather incompatible."

Mrs. Weasley couldn't resist dropping her two knuts. "Well, surely, if you two just gave it a bit more time."

"Mum" Ron attempted to stop her, but quieted at another squeeze of his hand.

"It's alright, Ron. We have tried, Molly, for far longer than any of you know. But after all…" she steeled herself for the pending explosion. "When one is not attracted to wizards, one should probably refrain from attempting to date them." Her eyes closed and she waited for fallout that never came.

"Well is that all, dear? Why on earth didn't you just say so?"

Hermione's eyes flew open as her eyes filled with tears.

"You aren't angry?"

Mrs. Weasley simply enveloped Hermione in one of her warmest hugs and moved the evening on. "Come, dear, have some tea. It will set your mind at ease. Now, why Victor?"

Hermione accepted her seat at the table, flanked by Ron on one side and Fleur on the other. She searched for and found Ron's hand beneath the table and met his shining eyes. She mouthed a silent 'Thank You' and just as she registered his silent nod, a warm breath caressed her ear from the other side, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

"You know 'Ermione, I have many soeurs from Beuxbatons who would jump at ze chance with 'Ze Brightest Witch of 'er Age, non?" Fleur's sensual whisper held a hopeful promise.

Hermione whipped her head around and caught Fleur's gaze, full of mischief, causing Hermione to stumble over her response. "Um. Thank you, Fleur, but, I, ah, think maybe I should just… be single for a bit, you know? Before meeting a bunch of strange witches right off."

Fleur smiled. "Hm. As you wish, mon amie, but I do not give up so easily, oui?"

Hermione giggled. "Je sais, Fleur. I know all too well."

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One year later

"Hurry Hermione! I don't want to miss mum's Shepherd's Pie!"

"Bloody hell, Ronald, do you ever think about anything besides your stomach? Susanna can't keep up in her heels. Run, if you must, we'll catch you up!" Ron was off, to announce their impending arrival at the Burrow.

"Vieni cara, Ci siamo quasi. We're almost there, love." Hermione held tight to her girlfriend's hand. She needed to make sure they made it to the Burrow in one piece. She was more nervous tonight than when she introduced Susanna to her parents.

"Hermionee, dove si trova il sentiero del giardino!" Susanna grumbled as her stilettos sank into the damp spring ground, sounding much like the diva she was famous for being.

"It's not really that sort of garden, cara, and the little path they did have was ruined by gnomes last week. Molly just hasn't had a chance to repair it yet."

"Well, I sink she should have it repaired for her guests, si?"

At this, Hermione stopped and turned to the beauty with a sudden frown. "Susanna Fiore, you are a beautiful, sweet, passionate woman, and I love you, but these people are as much my family as my parents. More so, if I am to be totally honest, and I am begging you, to set aside your Roman sensibilities for the evening and have a plain, English dinner with these people who love me. Please, be nice to them."

"I am always nice, il mio dolce. I am upset because my new Ferragamos are being ruined in the mud." She ran a perfectly manicured crimson fingernail down Hermione's nose and leaned in close, whispering, "Mi dispiace," and Hermione melted.

They shared a brief, but firey kiss and Susanna found herself in Hermione's arms, being carried across the remainder of the Weasley garden. "Problem solved, cara, si?"

"Mm. Si." Susanna took Hermione's convenient earlobe between her teeth and the young woman nearly dropped her in the problematic mud.

As they arrived at the backdoor, Hermione set the diminutive Italian gently down on the small stone patio and opened the door, allowing her through the door before entering herself.

"Hello Weasleys, we're here!" The kitchen was empty, but the typical sounds of several voices speaking at once floated from the rooms beyond.

Then Molly entered beaming. "Hermione dear, welcome! Ron said you were having trouble navigating the garden. I am sorry for the state of the place. Without Crookshanks around anymore to chase the gnomes, the bloody things have nearly taken over. I do hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all Molly, we managed." Hermione giggled as she was enveloped in a warm Molly Weasley embrace. She then stepped back and reached a hand to Susanna who took it and stepped closer. "Mrs. Molly Weasley, I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Susanna Fiore. She's the star soprano in the Rome Opera. Susi, this is Molly Weasley, the kindest, hardest working witch in the whole of the British Isles." The women shook hands and Molly blushed.

"Oh, you." She quipped at Hermione and squeezed Susanna's hand. "Come, dears, everyone is waiting for you. Don't let George give you too hard a time, Susanna, he's harmless," she warned as she led the new addition into the living room.

Hermione chuckled and followed behind.

Around a roaring fire, introductions were made, jokes and hugs exchanged and Susanna charmed the room to their toes. As she carried on a conversation about muggle theatres with Arthur, Hermione turned to Bill and asked, "Where's Fleur?"

Bill said nothing, but his visage darkened and he pointed towards the small study off the main living room. With a knowing smile and a sad squeeze of Bill's hand, Hermione stood and made her way into the darkened room.

A single candle flickered on the desk, bathing the room in a dim, eerie light and casting a deep shadow on the flawless face of Fleur Delacour who was sat on the comfy window seat, head leaned against the cool glass.

"Fleur," Hermione began, startling her from her reverie.

"'Ermione." Fleur wiped her hands across her cheeks as if to dry tears and turned a weak smile upon the woman who had entered her sanctuary. "When did you arrive?"

"Just a bit ago. I was worried about you. I haven't seen you since... that night at St. Mungo's. You won't answer my owls and you've closed your floo. I would have come to the cottage, but I didn't want to intrude."

Fleur nodded and returned her gaze to the dark outside. Hermione moved into the room, drew her wand and conjured a small, bright, blue flame above the desk, which eclipsed the candle and cast warm light into the dark corners of the room. She joined Fleur on the window seat and drew one slim hand into both of her own. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fleur spoke.

"We should go meet your beloved, oui? She will wonder where you have gone."

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "She'll have the entire room eating out of her hand for hours. I'm much more concerned about you." She gave Fleur's hand a squeeze and a gentle stroke with her thumb. "Talk to me, Fleur. How are you feeling?"

Fleur shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. I still have pains from time to time, but nothing like before. The real pain is here." She drew her hand from Hermione's and laid it over her heart. "My arms ache for want of holding her and I sometimes hear cries in the night, even though she never took a breath." Her tears began again and Hermione scooted closer, drawing Fleur to her by her shoulders as the veela tucked her face into the crook of Hermione's long neck.

"Je suis desole, cheri. You will never forget her, but the pain will lessen, Fleur. Je promets."

Fleur's blond locks shook in the negative. "The miscarriage was months ago, amie, but it feels as though it was only yesterday. I fear I will always feel this way."

Hermione drew up her head with a gentle finger beneath her chin. "You must let us help you, Fleur. You cannot expect to heal overnight and you certainly cannot do it on your own. When you feel this way, you need only owl me. I am only an apparation away, even when I'm in Italy. OK?"

Fleur smiled wanly. "Oui, mon amie. I will."

Hermione nodded. "How is Bill?"

Fleur closed down and turned her attention back out the window. "William is distant, sad, wrapped in his own pain. We have not been good for each other the past few months. He will not touch me. I think he believes I will break. And he may be right. If he lays a hand on me, I fear I may shatter into a million pieces."

Hermione drew Fleur's attention back to her. "I have been touching you for the past 10 minutes, Fleur, and you are completely intact. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Let him comfort you, and perhaps you can be of comfort to him." She stood and held her hand out for Fleur. "Come on, darling. Let's go back to the party. Sit next to Bill, tuck your arm into his, lay that beautiful head on his shoulder. A little goes a long way." Fleur stood and squared her shoulders. "Besides," Hermione smirked, "when have you ever been afraid of making the first move." She raised one eyebrow.

Fleur blushed and hugged Hermione tightly, holding on much longer than necessary and whispering French into her ear, causing Hermione to shiver. "Merci, mon saveur. Vous savez toujours pas quoi dire."

At that moment, Susanna strode into the room. "Hermionee, Mrs. Weasley says dinner will be in…" She stopped and frowned, crossing her arms petulantly. "Who is this, tesoro?"

Hermione turned to her girlfriend with a smile. "Susi!" She reached for Susanna's hand, still holding Fleur's in her other. "I'd like for you to meet, my dear friend, Fleur Weasley, Bill's wife. I've known her many years. Fleur, my beautiful songbird, Susanna Fiore. I think the two of you will get along splendidly."

Fleur schooled her features and reached a delicate hand out as Susanna took it. "Enchanter mademoiselle."

Each woman sized the other up as they gave each other a feminine squeeze of the hand and Susanna countered with an aloof, "Il mio piacere." She smiled and turned her attention on Hermione. "Vieni, cara. La cena è quasi pronta."

"I'll be along in a moment, darling." She punctuated her statement with a sweet kiss on Suzanna's soft cheek. After the dark-haired Italian had left the room, she turned to the blonde with stars in her eyes. "Elle est tres belle, n'est pas?"

It was Fleur's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Oui," she said with a certain wariness. "But, cheri, you did not tell me you were dating a siren."

Essere Continuato (to be continued)

A/N: Please read and review. I look forward to your feedback!

A/N 2: There has been a request to include the French and Italian translations.

All translations were procured from Google Translate and my rudimentary grasp of the French language

_Vieni cara, __Ci siamo quasi_ – (Italian) – Come on darling, We're almost there.

_dove si trova__il sentiero del giardino_ – (Italian) – Where is the garden path?

_Il mio dolce_ – (Italian) – My sweet

_Mi dispiace_ – (Italian) – I am sorry

_Je suis desole_ – (French) – I am sorry

_Je promets_ – (French) – I promise

_Mon saveur_ – (French) – my savior

_Vous savez toujours__pas quoi dire_ – (French) – You always know what to say

_Il mio piacere_ – (Italian) – The pleasure is mine

_La cena__è quasi pronta_ – (Italian) – Dinner is almost ready

_Elle est tres belle, n'est pas_ – (French) – She is very beautiful, isn't she


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I apologize this update is so short. This story will come in fits and starts until I am less busy.

A big thank you to my Guest reviewer who corrected my Italian. I imagine it won't be last time.

Chapter 2

Hermione had difficulty finding her words in the wake of Fleur's revelation.

"A – A siren? I don't think so, Fleur. No. She can't be. Surely she would have told me such a thing!"

"Clearly, she did not. But, I assure you, a siren she is."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend. "How do you know."

Fleur smiled mysteriously. "It, uh, how you say, takes one to know one, oui?" Hermione looked puzzled. "Veela are descendents of sirens. We recognize our own."

Hermione began fidgeting. "I see," she said with false bravado. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it. You are Veela, and I love you. If she is Siren, I see no reason why I can't continue to love her as I do."

Fleur sighed, but nodded. She knew this was a discussion that would have to wait for another time. Right now, she would have to be civil, and allow Hermione tonight to get used to the idea.

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Later that night, as Hermione and Susanna stepped from the fireplace into the former's London flat, a pair of tanned arms snaked around Hermione's middle as she hung their coats and arranged their handbags on the end table.

"I finally have you all to myself amore. I could barely keep my hands from you this evening."

Hermione turned troubled chocolate eyes on Susi's piercing green ones. "Darling, why didn't you tell me you were a siren?" she blurted out, a bit more abruptly than she intended.

Susanna pulled away, frowning. "Who told you dat?"

"Fleur. She is part Veela. She said that she recognized you as one of her own kind."

Susanna's features had hardened and now her brow furrowed ominously. "Your friend will do well to mind her own business." She stalked off to the bedroom muttering something that Hermione thought sounded like "Cagna ficcanaso"

Hermione always became incensed when people spoke ill of Fleur because she was so frequently misunderstood. Hearing Susi call her a "nosy bitch" ignited her ire and she tore after her girlfriend.

"Now just a second, Susanna." She backed the hot-headed Italian against the wall of the corridor next to the bedroom. "Don't you dare disparage Fleur Delacour in front of me. She has saved my life and the lives of my friends. She has proven herself a loyal friend a thousand times over and in the past year, she has shown strength I can only dream of possessing. If you're going to be angry with anyone here, be angry with me."

Susanna crossed her arms and huffed childishly.

Hermione attempted to soften, even through her anger. "She didn't mean anything by it, Cara. She was curious why I hadn't told her you were a siren. I was taken aback that I didn't know myself. She didn't say anything unpleasant, only that she recognized your heritage as it was close to her own."

Susanna nodded, and before Hermione knew it, sinewy, tanned arms had snaked around her waist, short black hair tickled her neck and warm breath danced across her ear. "Perdonami, dolcezza mia" _(Forgive me, my sweet) _"I am a bit, how you say, sensitive when it comes to my siren heritage. I have loved and lost so many because of it."

Hermione drew Susanna's face up so their eyes met. "You won't lose me, Cara. Prometto. Si?"

Susanna drew her close and kissed her passionately. As their tongues danced, they moved in tandem into the bedroom. Hermione kicked the door closed and soon found herself pressed forcefully against it, and once again, that hot breath was caressing her ear. This time in a low, gentle hum, that soon progressed into a quiet ballad, sung in soft Italian. Hermione felt magic fill her senses, felt her anger melt away and it was as though her entire world existed in only this tiny space in the corner of her bedroom. As the soft voice rose in song, Susanna became Hermione's entire world, and she vowed she'd never stop trying to give her anything she desired.

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A month later, Fleur was putting the finishing touches on her latest painting when a spotted owl with a heart-shaped face flew into her studio window and stuck out its tiny leg.

"Ah, Bonjour Hamlet! Toujours bon de vous voir. Quel est ce?" _(Always good to see you. What is this?)_ She greeted Hermione's friendly owl and fed him what was left of her breakfast croissant before removing and opening the scroll he carried.

Hamlet remained, even after finishing his treat, indicating to Fleur that he was to await her response.

_Dearest Fleur,_

_Enclosed please find two tickets to next week's performance of The Magic Flute at the Rome Opera for you and Bill. I've taken it upon myself to include round-trip apparition passes and a couple of vouchers to Susanna's favorite restaurant here in Rome. We truly do hope you can join us. Upon discovering you were Veela, Susi became very keen to get to know you better and I thought a romantic weekend in Italy would be just what you and Bill needed to reconnect._

_Please let me know if you will come, and don't worry if you can't. The tickets were complimentary, the passes were a favor I called in at the Italian Ministry and the vouchers are just one of many perks of being a world renowned opera diva. _

_The weekend is on us._

_I've instructed Hamlet to await your reply. Don't worry, he's only flying to the Owl Post in Diagon and an international bird will bring it to me in Rome._

_I miss you ever so._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

Fleur sighed as she folded the letter and pulled out a piece of parchment and her quill set. Next weekend was as good a time as any, she supposed, to inform Hermione of her recent separation and impending divorce.

She was the last of her close friends and family to find out. Fleur had been putting off the conversation, but knew she could not avoid it any longer.

She kept her response succinct.

_Hermione,_

_I would love to come. Sadly, Bill will be unable to join me._

_Look for me at the Ministry apparition point on Friday at noon._

_I very much look forward to seeing you, Cherie._

_A Bientot,_

_Fluer_

Etre poursuivie (to be continued)


	3. Chapter 3

The Italian

Chapter 3

Fleur arrived in Rome tired and upset. She'd had an argument with William just before leaving for the apparition point regarding her insistence upon keeping in touch with his family even after their divorce.

"_I 'ave no intention of forsaking my friends, William, simply because we are no longer going to be married. They are a part of my life, wiz or wizout you."_

"_It isn't fair, Fleur. We're supposed to be divorcing, not hanging out with each other's friends. How can I ever get past this if you're ever present?"_

"_I will not be ever present. It is not as if I intend to spend all of my free time at the Burrow, but I will not 'ermit myself away simply to give you space you are so selfishly demanding."_

_Bill stood, mouth agape, unable to answer, incredulous that she refused to grant him this one thing._

"_Now if you will excuse me, William, if I do not leave now, I will be late for my apparition time to Rome. If you feel ze need to discuss zis further, it will have to wait until my return. I dare not keep 'Ermione waiting."_

She stepped off the apparition platform into Hermione's welcoming embrace and simply said "Coffee?" before being swept off to an intimate caffe and being presented with a strong, hot, robust Italian roast with a splash of sweet cream.

"Merci, 'Ermione. 'Ere I 'ave been 'ere less than thirty minutes and already you are caring for me." She pressed a slender hand to her eyes, in part to quell the oncoming headache and in part to stifle the hot tears threatening to spill.

"Fleur," Hermione pulled the hand away from her face, forcing their gazes to meet. "Please tell me what's wrong. Your letter was so curt and you are clearly not sleeping. You must talk to me."

Fleur took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any.

"William and I are divorcing, 'Ermione."

Hermione inhaled hot coffee and was immediately sieged by a hopeless fit of coughing. When she finally caught her breath, her face was wet with tears, both from the coughing spell and heartbreak over Fleur's news. "When did you decide this, darling?"

"He served me ze papers two weeks ago. But, truly, you must know, our union died zat night at St. Mungo's"

"No, Fleur, you can't think that. None of this is your fault."

I know, mon amie, and I am truly sorry I did not tell you sooner, but I simply did not know how. You have been such a champion for my marriage, especially since ze miscarriage. I did not want to see ze look of disappointment on your face." Fleur looked at her with sad, blue eyes. "Much like ze face I am seeing on you now."

Hermione schooled her features and scolded herself internally. "I am not disappointed, Fleur. Don't be silly. God knows I'm no role model for healthy relationships. Until Susi, I was a complete cock-up at romance. You know that." She smiled and squeezed Fleur's hand. "What happened?"

Fleur told Hermione the whole awful business. How Fleur had attempted romantic advances the night after dinner at the Burrow, upon Hermione's behest, how Bill had rebuked her and slept on the couch for a week. Fleur had approached Bill saying she wanted to try for another baby, that she was ready and that she could not mourn forever. Bill had exploded, screamed that he never wanted children to begin with and flooed to George's shop, leaving Fleur a weeping mess on the sitting room floor. Fleur hadn't seen him for three days. The divorce papers were presented, signed and were now awaiting the molasses-speed process of rubber stamps and red tape at the Ministry of Magic.

"Bastard." Hermione's eyes turned stormy and only a squeeze of Fleur's hand brought her about.

"Enough, Cherie. He is not worth our time in zis magnificent city, oui? Now, tell me, where is your mysterious siren? I expected to see her with you today."

"She is in rehearsals all afternoon and will likely stay at the theatre until the performance this evening. She's hoping we can all meet up for lunch tomorrow, then you and I will have dinner before going to see the show tomorrow night. Susi got us box seats!"

Fleur smiled and held her tongue. _Give her a chance, Fleur. Surely not all sirens are alike._ She was determined to give Hermione's paramour the benefit of the doubt until Susanna Fiore gave her some reason not to, as sirens were wont to do. But she would remain ready to rescue her friend from a dangerous creature, should the need arise.

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In the meantime, Fleur and Hermione explored all the best parts of Rome.

Hermione dragged her friend through the Coliseum, The Roman Forum and finally St. Peter's Prison. "Did you know, Fluer, that St. Peter's Prison began as a Wizarding Prison? Muggle history states it was constructed around 640 BC, but truthfully, ancient wizards built it around 1000 BC and used it to house the darkest of their kind, until the rise of monotheism. It was taken over by religious elders and the wizards were driven underground. There are rumors that it's still being used to incarcerate dark wizards, but if that's true, it must be top secret, because as you can see…" Hermione turned around and trailed off her impromptu lecture when she found Fleur, leaning against the threshold of a stone doorway, gazing at Hermione with a soft, bemused expression gracing her pale features.

"What?" Hermione inquired as though she had been caught out.

Fleur smiled and demurred. "You. You cannot resist being ze smartest witch in ze room."

Hermione looked abashed and turned back to the tiny prison cell they had been looking in on. "Sorry, I sometimes do get a bit carried away."

"Non, Cherie, you misunderstand." Fleur stepped close to Hermione and laid a delicate hand on her upper arm, giving a light squeeze. "I find it… charming."

Hermione looked up and smiled as amused blue eyes met relieved brown. "Well, there's a lot more where that came from, but I'm afraid I may educate you to death and it's such a beautiful day. Do you fancy a walk through the markets? We can pick up some things for dinner." She took Fleur by the arm and began to lead her to the prison entrance. "I'll even buy you a souvenier."

Fleur grinned and laid her hand on Hermione's curled around her elbow. "Oui, I would like zat."

The pair wandered Rome, ducking in and out of shops and even crashing a wine tasting before meandering through the farmer's market and picking out indgredients for an authentic pasta dinner which Hermione insisted she couldn't possibly mess up.

"Are we near your home, 'Ermione. Je suis tres fatigue"

"Oui, Fleur. It's just round this corner. Your luggage should already be there. I'll let you have a shower and a nap before dinner."

Fleur laid her head briefly on Hermione's shoulder. "Mmm. Zat sounds divine."

An hour later Hermione emerged from the kitchen with an open bottle of red wine and two glasses to find Fleur sleeping soundly on the sofa in the sitting room. She set her burden on the coffee table, pulled a large wool throw from the back of the sofa and tucked it around her sleeping friend. Before returning to the kitchen, she couldn't resist brushing her hand down Fleur's soft blonde locks.

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Dinner, while not a particular triumph, was, at the very least edible. The bread was nearly burnt and the puttanesca was slightly watery, but at the end of the meal, stomachs were full, wine glasses emptied more than once and dessert was magnificent as Hermione had not cooked it but had purchased it from the bakery down the street.

Fleur dragged her finger through the remainder of the dolce du leche sauce on her plate and licked it decadently.

The motion threw Hermione off balance, for reasons she chose to ignore and she stood and began clearing plates. She cast a quick, wandless spell that set the dishes to cleaning themselves and poured the dregs of their second bottle into their glasses. "Care to move to the sitting room?"

Fleur nodded and stood.

They settled in, Hermione in the overstuffed armchair, Fleur on the end of the sofa, leaning on the armrest, head propped in her hand.

They chatted long into the night, until the wine was dry and they had moved on to water.

Subjects became increasingly more personal, laughs rang through the apartment and secrets were shared. As the subject turned to romance, Hermione leaned in close to ask her next question.

"So, was Bill your first?"

Fleur was taken aback by the question, but not offended. She smiled in remembrance. "Non, actually, I had a bit of a fling with –"

She was cut off by the door to the flat opening unceremoniously and a short, beautiful Italian came through the door singing a song Fleur vaguely recognized as a recent pop hit.

She watched Hermione's eyes twinkle magically for an instant before she was on her feet and throwing her arms around her girlfriend.

"Susi! Welcome home, cara mia. How was the performance? You remember Fleur?"

"Ah si. Benvenuti a Roma, Fleur. De show was perfetto, amore. I wish to celebrate!" and she wrapped and arm around Hermione's waist and bestowed a through, knee-bending kiss upon her. As she pulled away, Hermione looked a bit dazed.

"Gladly, my love. Let me just clear up a bit and I'll meet you in the bedroom, si?"

Susanna only nodded and sauntered toward the hallway. Before she left the room, and Hermione had disappeared into the kitchen, she turned to Fleur. The smile had disappeared from the Italian's patrician features and had been replaced by uninhibited rage. She turned back to the hallway and continued on, the sound of her humming echoed through the apartment until the bedroom door slammed behind her.

Fleur's heart was racing, but she was unable to formulate a coherent thought before Hermione reappeared. "G'night, Fleur. Stay up as long as you'd like. There's a great breakfast place I'd like to take you to in the morning if we're up early enough."

Fleur nodded and forced a smile. Hermione leaned over and pecked the top of her head before disappearing down the hall the way Susanna had gone.

Fleur took a deep cleansing breath and let it out with a slightly panicked "Oh 'Ermione."


End file.
